


green and orange

by Ruby_Whistler



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Drabble, Gen, prison one-shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:21:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29316243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruby_Whistler/pseuds/Ruby_Whistler
Summary: a short fic of dream in prison. just a simple poetic description, might try write something longer next time. attempting to get a grasp on the character and his motivations.
Kudos: 3





	green and orange

White floors, grey bars, black walls.

A shadow spans over the jailcell. Cold wood in the form of a lectern nailed into purple dripping rock, a shelf and a quill and a pot of ink and books and books and scratching on the paper.

Silver cuffs, green eyes, orange highlights in the hair.

They match the uniform, five dark letters embroidered into a white plate. Bangs and thin streaks hang loosely around the shoulders, a glint in the lime beneath them. 

Lies, deception, trickery.

The violet fluid drips and sinks into the ground. The prisoner is deserving of his punishment. Every bit of him is anger, every bit of him is misery, helplessness, despair- the feather in his hand speeds up. A reflection stares back at him from the steel container of water, and he sighs. Being left alone in the cold makes him feel things he hadn't felt in a while, and blue memories paint his mind.

Revenge, hatred, pain.

The things he did had a purpose. They all had a purpose. Things were slipping, everything was slipping. The strings were smooth. The strings he was left holding onto as a lifeline. Then they broke and he panicked. 

Friendship, danger, grief.

It was just a mistake. There was loss, then there was nothing to lose. There was no reason to hold on. The strings were easier, but they were thin. They were thin and he was desperate. What will stop people from leaving him? What can he do to keep them near?

Silence.

Maybe another day. Dream writes a poem. He feels numb. Another drop falls, and the stone is crying, and the air is dry. Maybe another day he can figure it out. He has time. When they decide to visit, things will get better, or worse. He will get better.

Hope.


End file.
